


Forty Winks

by TabithaJean



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer Arc, Comfort, Episode: s04e16 Unrequited, Episode: s04e24 Gethsemane, Light Angst, Post-Episode: s05e01-02 Redux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 15:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30023541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TabithaJean/pseuds/TabithaJean
Summary: Four scenes when Mulder comforts Scully as she tries to manage her cancer. Little moments we didn't see in the show, and all include sleep because I love sleepy Agents.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Forty Winks

Time slows in the stream of the honied sun, which streams through the loft windows of the basement. Mulder glances at his watch: two forty-five pm. Hours since lunch. Surely time for a coffee break.

‘Hey Scully, what do you say we –‘ He pauses when he sees her upright in the chair, hands clasped over her middle, nothing amiss except for the fact that her eyes are closed. Her chin rests heavily against itself and her mouth widens as she relaxes further into sleep.

Her doctor’s appointments are clandestine, as if she can’t bear the exposure after her first attempt at treatment with Dr. Scanlon had failed so spectacularly. In the anonymity of a late-night car journey, she revealed the radiation therapy would leave her tired, and he’d had his ass handed to him for suggesting she take a desk job. So far, the only clue to the physical toll of her treatment were a few early afternoon getaways.

Until today, apparently, when she’s so exhausted that she conks out mid-conversation.

Dust twirls lazily in the afternoon glow. Mulder inhales slowly and deeply. Scully has the right idea: it’s the perfect afternoon for a nap. Except for the small matter of their report deadline. Mulder finishes editing the final draft as Scully’s head nods towards her shoulder.

She would hate this. But he’s loath to disturb her. She’s seemed so well recently, keeping up as they chased an invisible assassin all over town. He barely registers her response when he asks how she is, observing instead the length of the hesitation before she answers, or the vibrancy of her skin. Whether or not she makes eye contact, and if not, exactly how far away from his eyes do hers stray. _That’s_ how you tell how Scully really is. But maybe he’s missed something. He studies the shadow smudges under her eyes, trying to remember if they were lighter yesterday.

Having dragged out fifteen minutes, he knows he should wake her. She’s not too weak to do him some serious damage if he lets her sleep all day. He tucks the final report into the file before taking some papers to the back filing cabinet, closing the drawer slightly more loudly than necessary.

Scully is awake when he turns. A sneaky wipe of her mouth, slender fingers combing her hair, purposeful interest in her computer screen.

‘Three o’clock, Scully.’ He taps his wrist. ‘I think the last couple of hours warrant a break, don’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she replies breathlessly. ‘Mulder I –‘

‘It’s fine. Don’t even think on it.’

‘Ok. Thank you.’ Scully gulps, and looks at the file on his desk. ‘The latest draft was the winner?’

‘Winner winner, chicken dinner. I say we should get outta here a little early. How about it?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ she murmurs, yawning behind her hand. ‘Coffee’s on me today.’

*

With sweat teetering on his eyebrow and a racing pulse, Mulder pauses outside the waiting room to collect himself. Every goddamn hospital is the same: an intricate labyrinth of hallways seemingly designed to cause him maximum stress before finding his destination.

He spots her in the corner of the waiting room with her jacket folded neatly over her lap like a blanket. She looks _old_. That small word on their calendar – ‘treatment’ in spidery, perfect cursive – didn’t prepare him. The reality of the radiotherapy smashes through his half-imagined scenes: Scully against crisp, white pillows in a pink hospital gown, matching the shade of her cheeks, as if awaiting holy anointment. Too scared to admit what is painfully clear in that moment, he shakes his head in rejection of the resignation in her unfocussed scowl. He opens the door forcefully to shatter the whole scene into tiny shards.

‘Scully?’ He says, and she huffs a smile before wincing with the effort of standing.

‘Hi,’ she wheezes. ‘Thank you for coming. I’m sorry it was such short notice, but Mom only found out about her procedure yesterday.’

‘No problem. Let’s go, shall we? Get you out of here.’ Her shoulders sag with relief, and he wants more than anything to squeeze her shoulders until they’re tight against his chest, but he’s sure they would splinter.

Instead, he offers his arm, and is only mildly surprised when she takes it. A very thin pane of glass between them had disappeared after Eddie van Blundht: Mulder keeps expecting to bump against a boundary, only to find it has vanished. Perhaps the only and unexpected silver lining of having your identity stolen by a shape-shifting sexual predator.

Rare, late blossom rains on them as they walk towards his car. Scully shivers and stops, a white petal caught in her hair.

‘Do you mind? I just get so cold afterwards.’ He helps her into her jacket, and she hugs it across her chest. ‘I always feel like this when I’m jet lagged too.’

She fades on the drive home. Her face is the colour of the full moon as they pull up, and her wearied eyes burn. She is slow. Mulder’s kinetic energy is desperate to take charge, to get her in safely and build a fortress of pillows around her to block out the light, the noise, anything that has the audacity to give her any more discomfort.

‘Scully, I can carry you and we’ll be inside in a minute.’

‘Carry me? Mulder, no.’ Relieved, he laughs out loud to hear such familiar derision coming from this shadow of his partner. She’s still there, battling her way through. ‘I’m not a child. I can walk into my own apartment.’

Inside, she heads straight for the couch. Mulder drifts into the kitchen. He eyes her fridge, which is full, but he’s sceptical about the contents. How can there be so many different greens?

‘Uh…. Do you feel like eating? I can order Chinese. Or Italian?’

‘Ugh, no thank you. I’m not hungry.’

‘Please, Scully, eat a little something. Anything.’

‘Ok,’ she exhales. ‘Nothing proper. I just want…. Something cosy.’

‘Grilled cheese?’

‘Perfect.’

She doesn’t even move to turn on the tv while he cooks. Her sits beside her, and her eyes open a crack to eye her sandwich.

‘That looks good.’ She takes a bite, and a strand of cheese drips from her chin. Mulder feels like he’s won first prize. ‘Mulder, this is amazing. What’s _in_ this?’

‘Well, Scully, I found a secret ingredient in your cupboards. But I’m not sure I can share.’

She looks behind her to her kitchen table. ‘Vegemite?’

‘Damn. You sniffed it out in seconds. I forgot how good you are.’

‘And don’t you forget it.’ She elbows him lightly. The hollows of her eyes are skeletal.

‘Where’d you even get that anyway?’

‘Charlie sent it to me.’ With half a sandwich left, she puts her plate on the coffee table and licks her fingers noisily.

‘Are you sure you don’t want any more?’

‘No, thank you,’ she sighs. ‘That was just right.’

‘Ok. Do you need anything? Do you want an aspirin or something?’

‘I’m fine. I’m going to go lie down.’ She moves stiffly, as if she’s just run a marathon. Mulder washes the plates and clears her kitchen. When he checks on her before leaving, he smiles to see a tuft of ginger hair peeking from under the covers, where hearty snores rattle. 

*

Kritschgau leaves with a slam of the door, and the weight of his words land on Mulder’s chest. He sucks air as his windpipes shrink, and even before his second gasp, Scully is kneeling in front of him. If he closes his eyes, he sees Samantha, smells cigarettes, so he trains his eyes on Scully’s hands and tries to concentrate on their cool, perfumed touch while everything else swirls.

‘Come on now, Mulder, steady,’ she reaches him through the chaos. Her voice is pure crystal, it could cut glass, he’s always thought so, it’s just so perfectly sharp and he’s sure that her sound waves would glisten if someone were to examine them. ‘Just focus on your breathing. Inhale – two – three - Exhale - two - three –‘

In the end it isn’t the breathing which calms him, but the sight of her bruised face. He holds a breath until the bottom of his lungs burn, and its release sends shivers through the crown of his head.

‘Scully.’

‘Shhh, Mulder, just focus on your breathing. You’re having a panic attack.’ Her concern is palpable, but it’s not supposed to be this way around. He should be relieving her frown lines, not making them deeper. He gives a short laugh because she would know the medical term for frown lines. He is, as always, unsophisticated in comparison to her. ‘What? What is it?’

‘Scully, you got thrown down the _stairs_ ,’ he says gently, cupping her jaw and running his thumb over her cheek. ‘Don’t you think I should be making sure _you’re_ ok?’

She bites her bottom lip and looks away. ‘My brother thinks I’m being irresponsible. He thinks I should be taking better care.’

‘I think in this case he’s right,’ Mulder says. Doe-like, her guard is never fully down, and she always needs coaxing.

‘You wouldn’t say that if you met him,’ she says wryly. ‘Mulder, what do you think? About what Kritschgau said?’

‘I don’t know.’ Mulder’s chest tightens again. ‘Why would they go to such lengths? If they were capable of building such a complex cover up, then they surely had the means to just do it all anyway, without the _need_ of a cover up. And it still doesn’t explain my sister. It still doesn’t explain Samantha.’

‘How is alien abduction any more plausible than the actions men?’ Mulder runs his hands through his hair and resists the urge to lash out. It’s a valid question.

‘It’s not. I don’t know what to think. Do you know what that would mean for my dad? That he would have known, Scully. He would have known, and it would have been voluntary rather than in reaction to an external threat. I’m not sure I can face that just yet. Or what it means for my mom. And Samantha. And… you.’ Mulder puts his head in his hands, only glancing up when Scully stands. She blinks away tears furiously. A cloak of shame steels over him, silently trapping his guilt inside. He pulls her close, pushing his cheek against her belly, and breathes her in through the rough material of her suit in a futile attempt to absolve himself.

‘Oh, god,’ she says softly, cupping her hands under her chin. Blood snakes around her mouth.

‘Oh, Scully.’ He reaches for tissues. A paltry offering in the face of her condition.

‘I’m ok, I’m all right. I just need to sit down a minute.’ She takes an uncertain step back as her balance fails momentarily, and with a tight elbow grip, Mulder leads her to the couch.

‘Stay there,’ he commands, more harshly than intended. She nods and stares at the ceiling while he makes a sweet tea. ‘Here, drink this.’

She cups the mug. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice is thin and congested. ‘It’s been a long day. I should get going soon.’

‘Finish your drink first, Scully. There’s no need to rush.’ She hums in agreement and blows on her tea. In the silence, Mulder turns Kritschgau’s words over and over, trying desperately to craft an explanation that doesn’t rip a huge hole in the middle of his world. He can’t. Everything he counted on as fact can be explained neatly away. 

Beside him, Scully twitches. He rescues her mug as it tilts in her loosened grip. Her head knocks against his shoulder, finally settling as she falls into proper sleep. He loves the warm weight of her. Loves that with her presence, he can almost think of his apartment as home, loves that cancer hasn’t stolen her ability to sleep hard and sleep anywhere. She should rest properly, though. He lifts his arm to allow her to lie, but instead she sits up.

‘The chicken is burning,’ she says in a daze.

‘Ok, Scully.’

‘You need to take it out of the oven.’

‘Come on,’ he soothes, guiding her towards his lap. Her eyes close again, and he brushes her hair off her face. Purple and blue bloom across her cheek, a reminder of the violence which so frequently tries to claim her. But the real hex lies mere inches below, no bigger than a pebble, and Mulder is still shocked that something so small can bring down a force as formidable as Scully. And Mulder realises that he believes Kritschgau. For what else, other than man’s hubristic ambition for power, the true personification of evil, would be so bold as to stake it’s claim like this? Samantha, Scully, Penny Northern… all collateral damage in the face of this singular, ugly objective.

As if sensing his turmoil, Scully grips his knee and whimpers, eyebrows furrowing. He strokes her hair until she calms, her hand in his, and he steadies his heartbeat to the rhythm of her breathing.

*

Laden with grocery bags, Mulder’s arms are about to fall out of their sockets as he shuffles into Scully’s apartment. It took a couple of hours and three different health stores to find everything on her list. Her apartment is steamy-warm and smelling of lavender on his return.

‘Thanks Mom. Mulder’s just got here, so I’ll have to go.’ Scully appears in a white robe, wet hair slicked back around the phone. ‘Church on Sunday sounds great.’ She hangs up and pokes around the bags approvingly. ‘You got it all? Even the quinoa?’

‘Yep,’ he says proudly. ‘But it’s embarrassing how long it took me to realise it’s not pronounced kwinowa. Good nap?’

‘Mmmm, the best. I can’t tell you how good it is to sleep in my own bed with a real comforter.’ Freshly discharged, Mulder had collected Scully from the hospital five hours earlier, via a drive-through at Scully’s request. _I need a chocolate milkshake,_ she’d insisted _. It was all I could think about for three whole nights. I was about to die, and I had never tried a McDonalds milkshake._ She helps herself to a peach while he packs away the groceries. 

‘Ok. You have food, new pjs, the latest New Yorker. Looks like you’re all set.’

‘You’re not going, are you?’

‘Not if you don’t want me to,’ he replies uncertainly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. ‘I could stay for a little while.’

‘I’d like that, actually. This place doesn’t feel lived in yet.’

‘Well, all right then. I’ll make us some dinner.’ Her chin shines with peach juice as she smiles widely.

His pasta is a more than a little al dente, and the sauce boils away to treacle, but Scully, perched on the floor in front of the coffee table, declares it the best meal she can remember.

‘For so long I couldn’t taste anything, Mulder,’ she says between mouthfuls. ‘I wasn’t hungry either.’

‘Well, then it’s not like the bar is set high,’ he jokes, and she giggles with pink cheeks fat with food. A pensive look steals across her face, and she puts her fork down in preparation to speak.

‘It seems so inadequate to say thank you for what you’ve done, but it’s the only thing I have right now. So, thank you.’

Suddenly the room is too silent, and his plate clinks as he stabs at his last remaining penne. ‘No problem. Give me a call when Charlie’s in town. I’ll alienate you from him as well.’

‘Mulder, no.’ Her eyes are clear and alert; there’s no hint of a smile. He needs to accept what she’s trying to give him. ‘You didn’t give up, not for one second. Thank you.’

‘Ah, Scully,’ he tries. ‘There wasn’t any other way this could have gone. What would I have done without you? It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

The flush on her cheeks deepens.

After dinner, Scully puts on a VHS of Apollo 13. For the first time in months, Mulder’s shoulders relax. His belly is full, and Scully’s plush couch wraps around him, softening his edges. _I can’t keep my eyes open,_ he thinks, realising that he no longer hears the detail of the movie. The last thing he’s aware of is a blanket being pulled over his chest, and the familiar, welcome weight of Scully’s head on his shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> A few friends and I had a chat in discord after watching Demons about how we wish there was more comfort during the cancer arc. Just a few little gestures or scenes that show how both Mulder and Scully are doing. And this is a little thing as a result.


End file.
